Disclaimer in part 1

A/N: I honestly did not expect so many reviews so quickly. Thank you - I really appreciate the kind words. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much. Lisa

One Step Back
by imagine

Jarod flinched as the projectile made contact with his face and that was all Jon needed to push the man away from him. As the Pretender fell back, coming to rest against the bathroom vanity with his hand wiping the spittle away from his face, the younger man pushed himself against the dingy yellow bathtub. They each tensed for another round and their faces hardened with an unspoken challenge. But, before either of them could attack the other, Miss Parker stepped between the two men.

"That's enough," she demanded. "What the hell is the matter with the two of you?"

She saw the hesitation in their eyes and held her breath, hoping it was an indication they were coming to their senses. In the silence that ensued, however, Miss Parker could not help but wonder if she was witnessing the ultimate stand off.

Finally, Jarod averted his eyes, breaking the tension with a soft sigh. "She's right, Jay . . ."

"Jon," Miss Parker quietly corrected.

Glancing at the woman, he nodded. "We're family, Jon. We should . . ."

"We are not family."

"Of course we are."

"Really?" he dared, meeting Jarod's confused gaze. "Then, tell me, Jarod, what relationship do you and I have?"

They stared at each other for a moment then, muttering something inaudible, Jon dropped his eyes, leaving Jarod somewhat relieved. It felt strange, knowing the person he was at odds with was, literally, a younger version of himself. Even more unsettling was the fact that, the boy's point struck a nerve. Since Jon's rescue from Donoterase, Jarod realized he had never, in his mind or his heart, assigned a title to the young man. Though, this meant that he had never thought of Jon as his clone, it also meant the typical titles like son, brother or friend did not apply either. It was as if he were, subconsciously, ignoring Jon's existence completely.

"Hey! What's goin' on in here?" a voice yelled. "Who broke the damn door?"

All three turned their heads toward the closed bathroom door, startled by the newcomer in the next room. Peering out the opening, Miss Parker shook her head, then motioned to Jarod.

"It's the motel manager. Go take care of him so Jon and I can talk," she said.

On his feet, the Pretender looked down at the younger man. With his eyes averted and his hands clenched in tight fists as they rested on his knees, Jon appeared calmer but, somehow, more frustrated than he had moments before.

"I think I should stay here."

"I know yer in there," the manager called. "If ya don't come out, I'm gonna call the cops."

"No," she countered, pushing against his chest. "We'll be all right. You go take care of Mr. Furley, out there, and . . ."

"Who? The manager's name is Mr. Williams. He . . ."

She shook her head and reached around him. "Just go," she said, opening the door. "I'll explain later."

Reluctantly, Jarod did as he was told, shooting a silent apology at Jon before he stepped into the other room.

"Are you all right?" she asked, closing the door behind Jarod.

Nodding, he pushed himself to his feet, using the edge of the tub as support. "I'll live."

"Your hand is bleeding," she told him. Stepping to the sink, she ran a clean wash cloth under the faucet. Through the mirror, she watched Jon slowly lower himself to the closed toilet, staring at the injury. "Does it hurt?"

He shook his head.

He was silent when she knelt by his side and began gently dabbing the cut with a damp wash cloth. She pushed up the sleeve of his shirt to get better access to the injury, managing to get a glimpse of the tattoo on his wrist, in the process. Though the woman did not comment on the zodiac sign etched into his skin, he saw the question skirt across her face and heard the breath catch in her throat. However, it wasn't until Jarod's voice floated through the door, as he apologized to the motel manager and promised to pay for damages, that either of them allowed their expression to change. She smiled. He frowned.

"I told you not to call him."

His voice was low and, though it was no longer filled with anger, she looked up. He met her gaze briefly then took the wash cloth and, keeping it pressed against his hand, moved to the other side of the small room.

"I know."

"But you are not sorry you did."

She took a deep breath. "No."

The muscles in his arms and shoulder tensed and, slowly, the six-foot man brought his eyes to hers. There were half a dozen different emotions she was prepared to combat - anger, disappointment, frustration, hatred, desperation, guilt - but if any were there she did not see evidence of them in his face. Instead, she saw the fourteen-year-old boy she had promised to protect, years before.

Before she could formulate an additional comment, or explanation, there was a light rap on the door. By the time she turned toward the sound, Jarod had appeared in the room.

"Is everything all right, in here?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

Folding his arms over his chest, Jon turned away. Jarod's eyes traveled from the young man to Parker, frowning when she shrugged a response.

"Everything is fine," she said, getting to her feet.

"I'm going to go with Mr. Williams to pick up, and pay for, the supplies needed to make temporary repairs."

She nodded but said nothing, grateful that the Pretender had not decided to challenge her response. If she had any chance of convincing Jon that Jarod was on his side, the last thing they needed, right now, was another altercation.

"He wanted to inspect the damage to the window, but I told him Jon was ill and you were sitting with him," the Pretender continued. Seeing the young man stiffen at the words, he added, "I had to tell him something that would explain the damages."

"So, naturally, you told him you had a schizophrenic visiting who . . ."

"I told him you were my . . . our son," Jarod interrupted.

Jon glared at Jarod through the mirror, tightening the muscles in his jaw rather than commenting, leaving the older man feeling, uncustomarily, unsure. The lie he had told the manager had rolled off his tongue so easily that he hadn't questioned whether or not it might aggravate the situation between him and Jon.

Deciding that, at this point, he was incapable of doing the right thing, in the young man's eyes, Jarod took a deep breath and continued, "Mr. Williams thinks you had a seizure and that I broke down the door and damaged the window while trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

"Not too far from the truth," Miss Parker murmured.

Both men glanced at the woman, one with warning and the other with venom in his eyes. Leaning against the door, she cocked an eyebrow and shifted her attention between them, silently daring one of them to refute the statement.

Slowly looking back at Jon, Jarod added, "Mr. Williams is going to take the necessary measurements for the window from outside, so you may want to keep your voices low."

The younger man slid his attention away from Miss Parker but, keeping his back to the Pretender, said nothing.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," he said, his eyes still on the reflection of the younger man. When there was no reaction, he looked helplessly back at the woman.

"We'll be here, when you get back," she promised. When Jon remained silent, she signed and faced Jarod. "Both of us."

"Now that he's gone," she sighed, "why don't you and I get out of this oversized outhouse and have a heart-to-heart."

"Any discussion we had would be pointless," he said, tossing the wash cloth in the sink. "It's better if I just leave."

"Take one more step," she warned as he crossed the room, "and, so help me, you will regret it."

With his hand on the fragmented door, Jon turned and frowned at the woman. She saw his muscles flicker with the urge to defy her but, instead, he nodded acceptance and calmly lowered himself to the corner of the bed.

"Okay," she said, sitting beside him, "start talking."

Turning his eyes on her, Jon's brows furrowed in confusion. "About what?"

"Don't get cute. Why did you come here?" she asked. "Why did you want to talk to me?"

"You know why I came here, Miss Parker. I wanted you to deliver a message to Jarod's family. You refused. End of discussion. Now, can I leave?"

When he started to rise, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bed. "Nice try."

"What do you want from me?" he demanded. "Unless you have changed your mind about my request, there is nothing for us to discuss."

"There is plenty for us to discuss, if you would tell me the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he growled. "I have never lied to you."

She stiffened at his words, knowing he was referring to the fact that she had not kept his phone call to her between them. He wanted her to believe that, by bringing Jarod with her, she had committed a cardinal sin and shredded any chance she had of him trusting her again.

"That sounded like an accusation."

"It's a statement of fact," he replied, dropping his eyes. "I can't help it if you feel guilty."

It took a great deal of will power for her to suppress the sharp retort that came to mind, but Miss Parker managed. She decided the best way to get through to him was not to become defensive.

"So, all this drama today was because I told Jarod about your phone call?"

He glared at her. "He shouldn't be here."

"Why not? If you truly called me because you wanted a message delivered to the Major, I can't think of a better courier than Jarod."

The young man said nothing, but dropped his eyes back to his hands and, absently, began rubbing the tattoo on his wrist. Hoping he would find the courage to tell her whatever was going through his mind, she waited, but her patience was thin. After no more than a minute, she decided to ignore his silence.

"What was the message?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I told you. I want them to know that going back was my decision. It's important that they don't put themselves in danger by trying to rescue me, because I don't want to be rescued."

"You really want to go back to the Centre."

It was not a question, but the young man responded with a nod of his head.

"And you, honestly, thought I would help you."

Again, though there was no question, or inflection in her voice, Jon nodded.

"Are you taking drugs?"

"What?" his head shot up, his eyes meeting hers with an incredulous stare.

"Have you suffered any recent blows to the head?"

The questions were so calm, so even toned that he could not decide if he heard sarcasm. "No."

"Then, exactly, how did you come to the conclusion that I would help you go back to that place? What bit of logic did you use that I'm missing?"

"You said you would help me," he reminded her. "You promised."

Unprepared for the sincerity in his voice and eyes, Miss Parker suddenly stood and took a few steps from the bed. She felt the weight of his stare, knowing her reaction was probably confusing him.

"Don't you remember?" he asked, softly. "At the Centre, you told me . . ."

"I remember." Facing him, she avoided his eyes and slowly shook her head. "But you misunderstood. I wanted to help you get out. I wanted to help you live a normal life."

"But I don't want that anymore," he answered, looking up at her. "I never wanted that because I never knew what I had wasn't normal."

"Now you do," she stepped back to the bed and sat beside him. "You've been on the outside for almost six years and . . ."

"And I want you to help me go back."

When Jarod returned, he found Miss Parker sitting quietly in the chair by the window. Her arms were folded loosely across her belly, and her eyes were focused on something beyond the curtains. Seemingly deep in thought, she said nothing when he entered or when he asked where was. Until he moved in front of her and placed a gentle hand on her arm, she did not even look in his direction.

"Parker, what is it? Are you all right?" he asked. When she nodded dumbly, he looked around the room, then brought his eyes back to hers. "Where's Jon?"

She took a deep breath and, turning back toward the window, murmured, "Gone."

"Gone? What do you mean, he's gone?"

The panic in his voice was well masked but she heard it and, tightening the hold she had on herself, Miss Parker brought her gaze back on the Pretender. In an instant, she saw the worry his words had not conveyed and, for a brief moment, she was relieved. Despite everything the younger man believed, Jarod cared a great deal about his welfare.

"He went back to the dorm," she sighed.

"Dammit, Parker," he growled, pushing himself to his feet. "How could you let him go? You knew I wanted to talk to him, that I wanted to . . ."

"He'll be back in the morning."

Startled by her soft interruption, Jarod let his words fade. Silently, he watched the woman rise long enough to tuck her legs under her body then moved back to her side. The quiet in her voice, her uncharacteristically calm mannerisms and the way she avoided his face set off alarms in his head.

"He will?"

She nodded.

"He might have lied, you know."

She shook her head. "He didn't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he thinks he won," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "He thinks I'm going to take him back to the Centre."

"What! You can't possibly . . ."

"Relax. I have no intention of taking him anywhere near Blue Cove."

"You lied to him?"

"Evidently," she sighed. "It seems it's what I do best."

He watched her cross the room and lift her purse from the floor by the desk. She rummaged through the compartments, finally pulling out a small bottle of ibuprofen. Moving around her, Jarod disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he held out a glass of water then took the bottle from her and opened the child proof cap. Placing two pills in her palm, he waited until she swallowed them with the water then slid his hand into hers.

"Parker, tell me what happened while I was gone," he said, gently turning her to face him.

When she looked up, he saw the emotion she had been suppressing finally surface. Her eyes softened, filling with tears she refused to shed. Meanwhile, the lines of her face were suddenly more pronounced and her lower lip was tucked between her teeth. Without hesitation, Jarod slid his arms around the woman and pulled her into his chest. Though her arms slipped around his waist and she brought their bodies closer, he did not feel the tension in her muscles subside until almost ten minutes of silence had passed.

Finally pulling away, Miss Parker wiped her eyes and moved to the bed. Jarod followed and sat beside her.

"He wants to go back," she said, ignoring the crack in her voice. "He won't tell me why."

"And, yet, you agreed?"

It would have been easy to allow his question to spark another argument. If it hadn't been for the confusion on his face, and the concern in his voice, she might have handled his question much differently. But, she knew he wasn't accusing her, he was just trying to make sense of what was happening around him. For the life of her, Miss Parker wished she had the answers he needed.

She nodded.

"Why?"

Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath. "Because, if I didn't, he would have disappeared and, possibly, done something stupid like call Raines. I bought us some time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to find out what happened to make him want to go back, and convince him it's a bad idea. It shouldn't be difficult to stretch the drive from here to Delaware into at least four days."

He considered her words carefully then rose from the bed. "You're playing a dangerous game, Parker. If he figures out that you've lied to him . . ."

"He won't," she replied, massaging the back of her neck. "He's going to be too angry about other things."

Still simming the various outcomes of what she was suggesting, Jarod asked, "Like what?"

"Like the fact you're coming with us."

TBC

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